Gloria had done it; there was no stopping it now. Who would even wish to, even if such a thing were possible? The titanic door had burst open like a storm cloud, spilling great and terrible power into a world coming undone.

The pain. She agonised beyond mortal reckoning. Not only in her flesh, now blasted wide, a jagged rent from the child's birthing that split her lower half like a sack of meat torn to spill. No, her torment reached further, pressing past skin and bone and ruptured organ, crushing her beneath the violence of her labour, seeping in pungent brown across her savaged form. Her very soul shuddered within, like the cruel hinge of an elbow struck, her very self formed of a jester's nerve.

She screamed—it could not be kept down—yet the Vampir's Heart that still beat within her chest rejoiced, even as it seized her waning Harmony to reknit her flesh and bones.

Freed at last from her husband's child, that demon sent to do its work. Already the Beast had claimed the beast and was pulling all things into ruin.

A roar tore through the air. Vibrant colours bled into the world, blends of blues and greens and whites and reds. Stones rattled on the ground, then rose. Gravity's hold let slip. The bloodied sheets draped across her now drifted above her nakedness like remnants of a discarded veil.

She had done her work well. Soon would come her reward. She could already see it, blessed among women, the saviour reborn from the fruit of her womb. Poison enough to spoil the sea, yet the Master would drink from that draft and be remade. And for her sacrifice, she would reign beside her love, enthroned in the new world the Master would make.

She turned on her stomach—the enclosing curtains were rend wide—she gazed within the open door. Impenetrable darkness stirred. A hand reached from the void, onyx claws splitting the frame.

She was here—here at last. So cometh the Wraith Eater, Beast of Undoing, the unholy Thirio who would set the world ablaze.

'You have done splendidly,' came the voice of her love.

Shadows pooled across the stone. Amheus stepped from the murky depths. He had laboured fiercely himself, his clothing drenched in curdled blood, torn and unsightly, unworthy of his godly prestige. One arm hung limp in its socket, wrenched out of place, his muscles exposed beneath pale skin. Yet all the same, this was the man she loved. In her need, he had found her. The Vampir's Heart swelled fit to burst.

'My love,' she managed.

He silenced her with a gentle hush, then stepped to stand over where she lay. He cupped her face; she purred beneath his touch.

'Our Master slumbers no more,' he whispered into her ear. 'As the world comes undone, he draws all things to himself.'

He raised Gloria to his chest in a soothing embrace and ran a hand along her matted hair.

'It was all for you,' she wept, from the pain, yes, but also from the joy she felt in her lover's arms. 'I would do anything for you.'

He moved her back to meet his eyes, slit like a serpent yet warm all the same. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, and his other hand continued to stroke her hair.

'There is one thing left to ask of you, my dear,' he said softly.

'Anything.'

'No,' he replied, bunching her hair in his grip. 'Everything.'

No words followed. Gloria could not have spoken them even if she tried. In one motion she was betrayed. Amheus's claws dug into her throat. He wrenched. Her jugular tore wet and red and open. He pressed a vial to the wound, and the glass filled with widowed blood.

Gloria was released, and she slumped upon the altar. Life poured from her throat, her mangled womb, her ruptured gut. Scorned among women, her heart misled by a wicked man, yet she loved him all the same, even as her world went black.

Her failing heart still clung to him. She loved him unto death.

****

Sedrick strained against his own muscles. His strife was for naught; he could not keep the blood-red spear from cleaving down.

Theodor caught the shaft and struck, pounding his fist through Sedrick's gut. Even as the flesh writhed and drew closed, Theodor wrenched his arm back and, with a sideways slash of his hand, cleaved Sedrick in two.

He wailed. The pain was too much to bear. Yet Dracule's power still surged to his heart. Against his own will, he was not permitted to die.

They had been at it for days. He had long had enough. The endless fighting and dying against a man they could not stop, only slow, whom Sedrick had longed would win out.

It was a terrible thing to be entombed in one's own skin. Worse than death; more dreadful than hell. He was not sure where he stood with the gods, but by Stewards or Sentinels alike, he yearned for an end.

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'Oh, would you just stay dead, you wretched thing,' Theodor hissed, sending a storm of jagged bones about Sedrick, peeling his flesh from bone and leaving only his heart.

Yet the misted gore drew back to that heart, and in mere moments he was remade, compelled to set upon the Drake anew.

Of the seven flesh-weaved colossuses that had loomed over the battle when Sedrick had come that first day, only two remained. Even their ceaseless regeneration could not hold against the Drake.

A mighty fist bore down upon Theodor. He held it with his own as the broken earth collapsed beneath his feet. Sedrick advanced. Spear levelled and drawn back, he hurled it at Theodor. Like scarlet fingers splayed wide with golden claws, the polearm split into five lethal points, all arcing down to gore through its target.

With a beat of his wings, Theodor took flight, scarlet streaking in his wake. He swerved through the air, dipping and climbing, death on his heels. Flying headlong toward a monstrous giant, he dropped in the last moment. The streaks of red did not follow. They lanced into taut muscle and exposed bone. From the impact, decay began to spread. Golden sands eroded all they touched. It spread from the chest like a disease, metastasising into the air—scattering the giant to the winds.

'Cute,' Theodor intoned, as his heel cleaved down upon Sedrick's head, crushing his skull and driving him to the earth with a sickening crack.

'I do not desire any of this,' Sedrick rasped, his tongue knitting itself anew.

'I do not care,' Theodor replied.

From the warded estate, cultists spilled out. Every hand bore a weapon. Every frame was draped in shadows.

Sedrick watched as Theodor tore them apart. It was a grim satisfaction, but grim was the only kind left to him.

It was better now that Dracule had forsaken his mind. Better, though scarcely so. Amheus had gone as well, to where he could not say. Yet they had left commands he could not refuse. Buy time. Fight and die. Rise and die again. Bound in an eternal struggle not his own. His will shattered, yet chained to serve.

Buried in his own mind, he sought distraction, piecing together the workings of Theodor's Remnants. His strength dwarfed the flesh‑knit giants—perhaps his armour, perhaps some hidden charm. He soared by the beat of his wings, yet even at rest he hovered in place. He conjured bones and bent them to his will. Sedrick could not tell whether he carried them or drew them from the air itself.

They were not the tools he would have chosen had fortune smiled and he advanced. He had always favoured his rapier. Had he reached Champion, he would have sought the same, with charms for speed and strength. Perhaps a cape; he had always cut a figure in a shawl. He had never cared to advance before. Perhaps if he had, he would not now be enthralled.

'No, you do not,' Theodor admonished, seeming to vanish from the cultist ranks before appearing beside Sedrick's mending form.

He clapped a palm against Sedrick's face. His skull burst apart, fragments scattering across the torn earth.

The world went black, but baleful light intruded, searing him back into being. Yet he did not awaken to the roar of battle, nor the screams of lives cut short by Theodor's hand. Rather, the scores of cultists knelt, bathed in the gore of their fallen brethren. The sky bled scarlet, yet shimmered with hues that bled together. Beneath that sky—yet above it all—floated a man Sedrick had only ever seen in his dreams: Dracule Marchand De Sable, the man who denied him rest.

Every colour in creation flowed into the fiend. His arms stretched wide, his face lifted to the heavens. Dracule basked in the radiance even as the sky cracked above, space warped, and all things lifted from the earth.

'He has arisen,' came the cry of the cultists as one.

Their gazes were fixed upon the figure above. Not one looked away, even as Theodor moved through their lines, cleaving heads from shoulders with a perfunctory swipe across the neck. He might have slaughtered their entire ranks, had the earth not begun to rumble beneath them.

Crystalline pillars tore from the soil and rose skyward, looming above the ground. Lightning struck without rain; thunder ripped through the air. Great mounds heaved free of the earth and drifted upward. They bound together, forming islands in the sky. Ghostly white spirits streaked above—wailing as they whirled like a coming storm.

Even from the distant districts, Sedrick heard the people scream and cry and wail and roar. The rumbling deepened. From behind, a titan of volcanic fury rose, and a second followed, wrought of surging waters. The two collided. Towers were torn free from the earth.

All was coming Undone, as he had feared it would. Worse still was Dracule—unassailable, unstoppable—terrible might coalescing around him.

Theodor took to the sky. With a strike Sedrick knew could shatter bone, he hurled himself against Dracule. Yet he could not reach him and was repelled. He kicked off the air and rose again, only to be denied once more. He climbed to a floating isle, seized the edge with both hands, and hurled it toward the Master. As it sped near, it dissolved to sand and blew away.

'What is the trick? How do I kill him?' asked Theodor, his wings drawing in as he landed beside Sedrick.

'If I knew,' Sedrick rasped, lashing out at Theodor, only for his knees to be splintered beneath him, 'I would not hold it back.'

'Bothersome,' Theodor sighed. 'I have already burned through one of my charms hurling what became a gentle dusting. I will not hear the end of it should I need to call upon my brother.'

Sedrick's knees reformed. He lunged again, but was driven back to the earth with ruthless precision.

'He has been in your head. Surely you have some insight into his?'

'I am sorry,' Sedrick began. 'I do not have any—'

'Dracule!' roared a voice from the heavens.

Wreathed in whirling black fire, a figure seared through the air, soaring toward the Master. Sedrick's serpent gaze fixed upon the image, discerning the coat of black plating and the blade.

'Havoc?' he blurted, even as Theodor tore through his lower half. 'Flee, you fearless fool!' he shouted, knowing his words would never carry far enough for his friend to hear them.

He would be rebuffed. He would be torn apart. Havoc was mighty, but he could not stand against true power. Sedrick could not stand to watch his friend's blood spilled in vain.

'Curious,' Theodor hummed. 'Do you believe he can reach him?'

Sedrick held his tongue. No words could prevent what was to come.

Havoc neared Dracule, drawing his blade above his head. He cleaved down with burning fury. The hues that shrouded the Master burned away. A crack split the air, and for an instant a lightless star eclipsed the night.

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